


Blackberry Stained Paws

by SensationalSunburst



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Eskel is a Good Uncle, Eskel's Scar, Fluff, Gen, Geralt is A Good Day, Lambert is a Good Uncle, The Wolf Pack - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vesemir is a Good Dad AND Granddad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: Eskel is the best uncle an orphaned former-princess could ask for.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 267





	Blackberry Stained Paws

Grandmother had told her not to stare. It was rude, she’d said, impolite. The worst thing, she’d said, was getting caught. 

Ciri found herself breaking most of Grandmother’s rules these days, but she was trying to keep from staring. However, Eskel made the task nearly impossible. 

All of the witchers at Kaer Morhen had scars, but the lines of vicious claws down his face that gnarled his lips into a permanent snarl drew her eyes like nothing else. 

Geralt had let her ask about his scars throughout their journey to the fortress (even if his stories had been lackluster at times) but the thought of asking Eskel what happened made her throat die out. It wasn’t that Eskel was scary, it was more that it was impossible to tell what scars were from adventures and which were from heartbreak. And after the kindness that Eskel showed her, it felt rude to ask a question that could hurt his feelings. 

Eskel, as the best chef of the castle, gave her the best portion of every meal, stabbed at Lambert’s fingers when the witcher tried to pluck morsel’s from her plate if she wasn’t looking, and had even managed to recreate her favorite lemon and honey cakes. He was kind and quiet and gentle in a way she expected from scholars, not witchers.

She _adored_ him.

* * *

“Eskel’s favorite food?” Geralt said, his eyes flicked up towards the ceiling, a thoughtful frown on his lips. His cat-like pupils shrank to slits as he turned his face into the mid-morning sun streaming through the stained glass windows. They glistened like gemstones and Ciri was, as always, delighted to spot an identical set approach their table as Lambert all but threw himself into Geralt’s side. 

Lambert was prickly in the same way that Grandmother was - or had been- and so, despite Geralt’s frequent show of teeth when he thought Lambert was being mean, she liked him. 

“He likes boring shit,” Lambert said, smirking when Geralt growled about language. His tone was hostile, but he made no move to shove Lambert off his shoulder. “Fresh berries and cream.” 

“Berries and cream?” Ciri’s eyes darted between the two witchers as Geralt’s expression bloomed into a small smile. 

“That’s right,” Geralt said, “He once came back covered in blackberry juice. He looked diseased from a distance. Vesemir had a heart attack until he caught a whiff.” 

“He was furious.” Lambert’s laugh was rough like he was unused to doing it and higher in pitch then Ciri had expected. 

Geralt’s expression was soft as he watched Ciri dissolve into giggles, prompting another round of surprised laughter from Lambert. It was the first time he’d ever seen her laugh. Ciri had warmed to them faster than Lambert had expected, but for weeks after her arrival her smiles had seemed forced. Like she thought they expected her to be happy in the face of all she'd lost. 

“Oh, that’s it!” Ciri gasped and leapt up, bashing her knees against the table as she did and causing the cups to jump, for all she seemed to notice. Geralt made a concerned grunt but Ciri spoke over him, “Geralt, do we have berries here?” 

“Not in the fortress,” Lambert said, “But down in the valley, yeah. Let’s go.” 

“Lambert.” Geralt rumbled, but Lambert opened his palms and spread his arms with a scoff. 

“Come on, Geralt, I won’t let anything happen to the cub.” 

“You have to distract Eskel, Geralt,” Ciri said, scrambling to stand beside Lambert, mirroring his pose with her hands on her hips, “Otherwise the surprise is ruined.” 

Geralt’s entire body moved with the strength of his sigh. “Fine.” 

“Yes! Thank you!” Ciri cheered and darted back around the table to throw her arms around Geralt’s neck. She squeezed just an edge too tightly before bolting for the stables. “Beat you to the stables!” 

Lambert couldn’t quite muster his acidic smirk in the face of Geralt’s baffled expression, “Don’t worry, Papa Wolf, we’ll be back before you know it.” 

Geralt nodded, still openly confused and mirrored the two-fingered salute Lambert gave before he took off. 

A moment later, Ciri’s angry shout echoed through the castle. 

“You’re _cheating_!” 

* * *

“Where’s the little one?” 

Geralt looked up from his vigil over the battlements as Eskel approached, wiping soil stained hands on his trousers. He’d been working on revamping the gardens since a heavy ice storm the previous winter had caused the railing lining the gardens to collapse. Since Ciri and Geralt arrived, he’d outfitted the greenhouse, a new addition, with every manner of flower he could find in an attempt to cheer the girl.

Geralt was saved from having to come up with a lie when Lambert and Ciri tore up the path to the fortress, hooting and hollering in a dramatic race that was tearing up grass and dust in a way that reminded Geralt of the races he used to have as a young witcher. They were moving fast, but not fast enough for Geralt to miss the set of fresh claw marks down the back of Lambert's armor. 

Geralt waited until they pair approached, Lambert with sacks that smelt of ripe berries and rabbit over his shoulder and Ciri beaming with ruby stained lips and fingertips. She looked unharmed and was clearly in high spirits. 

"Any trouble?" Eskel asked. 

"Nope!" Ciri said immediately, beaming with fake innocence, "Not a thing- unless you count me being a better rider." 

Eskel laughed and stood, ruffling Ciri’s windswept hair as he moved to return to the garden. “Need better bragging rights, wolfling, everyone's a better rider than Lambert.” 

Lambert’s curse was drowned out by laughter. 

“And then it turned out that the bush was actually a _bear_!” Ciri was picking up a flair for the dramatic from Jaskier if the way she flung her hands around the fortresses kitchens was anything to go by. She showered Vesemir in flour as she did so before she burst into laughter with such force that he moved to keep her from falling from her stool. Lounging atop the shelving as he was, Geralt was privy to the helpless smile that carved itself onto Vesemir’s face, even as he scolded her. 

"So much for not telling," Lambert grumbled, but his complaint was half-hearted at best.

Geralt knew that Vesemir wasn't used to having company so early in the year, more so to have a true child around. Ciri wasn't a witcher in training; Vesemir had to treat her differently. But she took to her lessons with as much fervor as any young witcher, trailing behind Eskel in the gardens and Lambert through the training yard like an overexcited pup. She even stuck close to Vesemir, at least until he sat her down with heavy, dusty tomes of history. 

* * *

“What is that?” Eskel said later, drifting into the kitchen after his nose. He threw them all a crooked smile and sent a nod at Geralt, still perched above them. 

“No!” Ciri cried, springing from her stool, “It’s a surprise, you’ll ruin it!” 

“He could smell the berries in the sack, munchkin.” Lambert drawled, drawing attention to himself as he rose from a crouch near the hearth. 

Even over the dense aroma of stew, Ciri’s assortment of blackberry desserts hung in the air like thick perfume. It was impossible to ignore with a sensitive witcher’s nose, although Geralt suspected even normal humans could smell it drifting through the cavernous castle. It was a wonder that Eskel had managed to keep out for as long as he had. She’d washed and dried pounds of fresh berries and whipped fresh cream, but even then, there was still enough leftover for buttery crisps, glistening tarts, and thick, fragrant sweetbreads. 

“Wait….” The realization dawned on Eskel’s face like the sun, confusion giving way to unadulterated delight. It was a foreign expression on his face but a welcome one. Each of the wolves smiled in confirmation as Eskel checked to see if they were in on the surprise, “For me?”

Ciri let her arms flop to her sides and threw her head back in defeat, "It was supposed to be a _surprise_." 

"Why?" 

It was Ciri's turn to be confused, "Because!" 

Eskel threw his head back to laugh deep from his belly, "Geralt! How do you have all the luck? Why couldn't my child surprise be such a gem?" 

Then, still laughing, he threw his arms around a stunned Ciri to lift the girl straight up and off her feet, "Thank you, little wolf!" 

"Don't speak so soon; piss her off and we'll see her claws too, I bet," Lambert said, snatching a tart from the table. 

"She'd go for the throat, not the face." Geralt rumbled, smirking. 

"Is that what happened?" Ciri paled as soon as the words left her lips and slapped her hands over her mouth. Eskel rumbled with laughter and waved his hands as if to ward off her embarrassment. 

"Yes, a long time ago. She was… deeply troubled. I ignored Fate, left her alone for too long." He gestured to his face, fingers clawed as he pantomimed the injury, "All-in-all, a cheap price to pay." 

"She hurt you," Ciri frowned.

"She could have killed me," Eskel smiled, "Then where would I be? Without these lovely tarts, that's for sure. Don't look so sour, Vesemir, have a muffin." 

Vesemir lifted his lip in a half-hearted snarl and snatched the entire tin, "I think I will." 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave some comments if you wish!


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